


a little innocence will make them sing

by phantomlistener



Category: The Worst Witch (TV 2017)
Genre: Ambiguous Relationship, Canon Levels Of Marriedness, F/F, Gen, Missing Scene, s01e03: Tabby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-26
Updated: 2019-02-26
Packaged: 2019-11-06 04:45:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17933078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantomlistener/pseuds/phantomlistener
Summary: The arrival of Mildred Hubble, a young witch from the outside world, has sparked concerns and stirred up old, long-buried fears.  The Headmistress and her Deputy take a moment to reflect.Missing scene from 1x03 "Tabby".





	a little innocence will make them sing

**Author's Note:**

> Set after the kittens are allocated and before the broomstick test. Title from e.e. cummings' _who were so dark of heart they might not speak_ , which also contains the immortal line "turn sheer despairing to most perfect gay".

One would have been forgiven, had one been somehow able to eavesdrop on the scene in Miss Cackle's office, for thinking that the two witches within did not often see eye to eye.

“ _It is a foolish witch who judges by appearances_?!” Hecate Hardbroom, deputy headmistress (and currently outraged employee), glared at her employer with a ferocity that, had she dared to use it in the classroom, would have had her students in tears. “I will not be patronised, Ada, not even by you, and certainly not in front of _that_ child.”

“I was simply making a point.” Miss Cackle spoke mildly, brushing off her deputy’s reaction with a patient smile, and was rewarded by the thawing of Hecate's anger into a stiff sort of disapproval. She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. “You really must give Mildred a chance.”

“Must I,” came the chilly response.

“The child is clearly out of her depth.” Miss Cackle continued as if she hadn’t heard the interruption. “But she showed real bravery and skill on Selection Day, and I have seen nothing since to suggest that she isn’t genuinely committed to Cackle’s. That she’s found friends already, and demonstrated real loyalty, does her credit.”

“That is _not_ the point,” Hecate snapped, “and you know it. You cannot trick me into _liking_ Mildred Hubble.” She hesitated, aware of the frown that had appeared on Ada's usually tolerant face, and relented slightly. “I will admit that she can be-” her nose crinkled, despite herself- “ _sweet_. On occasion. But the fact remains that she is wholly unsuited to becoming a witch!”

“She _is_ a witch,” Ada said in a gentle voice.

“Oh, very well - but a witch with no understanding of consequences and barely any ability to control what magic she can summon up, let alone any inclination to truly apply herself in her studies, is hardly a witch at all.”

“And have you stopped to think that perhaps it's not her fault? Growing up in a non-witching family...she's been deprived of all the advantages we take for granted.”

“I know that," Hecate said irritably. "I’m not so blind as to deny that Mildred has...potential. I just worry: the girl has power, but no control, and you know as well as I the risks inherent in uncontrolled magic.”

“You truly believe she could be a threat?”

“Not...deliberately," Hecate said, considering. "But these things happen, Ada. She has no understanding of our world, let alone the proper comprehension of the Witches' Code that is essential for young witches to stay safe. Without proper instruction, even the kindest children can cause tragedy.”

There was a moment's silence, heavy with the weight of things unspoken.

“She needs teaching,” Ada said eventually, softly. She stood and moved round the desk, crossing to Hecate's side and placing a reassuring hand on her arm. “And you, my dear, are the best qualified to help her.”

Her indignation would have been entertaining were it not for the genuine panic and surprise written across her face: “I am not her mother!”

“But you _are_ her teacher,” came the firm reply. “And as you are so fond of pointing out, her mother can't teach her the first thing about magic.”

Hecate stared at her, caught between knowing she was right and rage at the open manipulation. “I-”

“I know she makes you uncomfortable, Hecate, and we both know why.” Ada's voice was unusually firm. “But as her teachers, we have a duty to ensure her safety. And as witches-”

“I _know_.” Hecate sighed, absently straightening the line of ornamental paperweights teetering on the edge of the headmistress' desk. “I just- I _worry_ , Ada.”

“You always do.” Her fond expression solidified into something more serious. “But this time, I'm inclined to agree with you. Mildred needs instruction, and she needs it before her powers increase beyond those of a child.”

Hecate bowed her head in reluctant assent, and the bristling opposition that had animated her body relaxed into tired acceptance. She sank heavily into the least worn of the two armchairs sitting in front of the fireplace. “I wouldn't want you to think for a second that I have anything but the utmost respect and- and _affection_ for you, Ada.” Her voice was soft, edged with nettle-sting honesty, and her fingers played a silent arpeggio on the arm of the chair. “I understand what you're trying to do, but I simply cannot see the child as anything other than a danger, no matter how well-meaning she might be. It is impossible to compensate for her upbringing!”

“I have a great deal of affection for you too," Ada said. “As well you know.” She stood up from her desk, tugging her close-knitted pink jumper down where it had ridden up at the back, and moved to stand just behind Hecate's chair, resting a supportive hand on her shoulder. “I don't expect you to agree with every decision I make. In fact, I have come to rely on your honesty and integrity over the years. You've become somewhat indispensable to me, my dear.”

“I should hope so,” Hecate murmured. “What sort of deputy headmistress would I be if you could simply...do without me?”

Ada laughed, a sound so full of delight and affection that something unnamed eased in Hecate's chest. She sighed, and covered Ada's hand with her own. “I am not being deliberately... _difficult_ ,” she said softly.

“I never thought you were.”

“Mildred's just so...so _young_.” She twisted halfway round in her chair to meet Ada's gaze and found her headmistress watching her with an expression of unconcealed affection.  A blush crept rebelliously across her cheeks as she added, “you're trying to distract me.”.

“Hecate Hardbroom, distracted by praise?” A soft, knowing smile played around Ada’s mouth, and Hecate’s blush deepened. “But no, my dear, I was simply being honest.”

Hecate held her gaze for a moment with an open and unguarded expression of fondness then dropped her eyes, almost as if she were embarrassed to be caught in the act of caring. Her thumb drew gentle circles on the side of Ada’s hand. “As far as _Mildred Hubble_ is concerned-” she rolled the name around in her mouth as if it were a particularly gruesome potions ingredient- “charm and good intentions do not a witch make.”

“Ah, then you do at least admit she has a good heart.”

Hecate glared up at her, irritated to be caught out, and pulled her hand away. “I have never tried to tell you otherwise.”

“It was inferred.” Ada made her way to the other armchair and relaxed into it with a sigh. It was the work of a second to wave her hand and start a low fire in the grate, and the gentle flicker of playful flames set everything around them in an illuminating glow, softening the concerned lines of Hecate’s face.

“Remember when you said you had a good feeling about this year?”

“I’m only suggesting lessons, Hecate, not some form of torture” said Ada encouragingly. There was only a hint of sarcasm in her voice. “Perhaps once a week, just for this first term, to give her a grounding in all the things she missed as a child.”

Hecate’s mouth twisted into an expression of long-suffering disbelief. “Ada. Do you truly expect me to be able to impart an entire childhood’s worth of magical instruction in twelve lessons?”

“Well...I can see how that might be difficult.” Considering, she leaned her head back against the soft velvet of the antimacassar and let her eyes be hypnotised by the play of shadows on the ceiling. “Maybe expecting Mildred to catch up to the others so fast is unfair. It might be better if we incorporated her instruction into our lessons – it certainly wouldn’t hurt the others to be reminded of the basics as well.”

“The basics of witchcraft are essential to a higher understanding of the craft,” Hecate said in reluctant agreement, “and some of our first years are _woefully_ inept.” Her hands curled into white-knuckled fists, the effort it took to restrain herself from elaborating on the state of the Craft plainly visible, but she said nothing more: her silence spoke for itself, foreboding and uneasy.

“You need to relax," Ada said eventually, and had it been anyone else Hecate would have erupted in scathing defence of her right to be as prickly and as rigid as she chose.

Instead, safely ensconced in the headmistress’ office with no fearsome reputation to maintain, she simply sighed. “You know as well as I, Ada, that relaxation is highly inadvisable – not to mention _irresponsible_ – while the corridors are crowded with new witches intent on mischief.”

“You’re exaggerating,” Ada murmured, indulgent. “The girls can be excitable and highly-strung, but they’re hardly spending every waking moment plotting.”

“How do you know,” she returned darkly.

Ada suppressed a chuckle. “Miss Drill is on corridor duty this evening-“ she raised a hand, forestalling the inevitable biting interruption- “and she is more than capable of dealing with a few over-excited children.”

“She’ll fit right in with them, I’d imagine,” Hecate said, but the softness in her eyes took away any true malice from the comment.

They sat there for a moment just listening to the symphonic crackle and whisper of the fire. No students or colleagues were bickering in the background, no unmentionable disasters loomed on the horizon. It was just them, wrapped up safely in the cocoon of Ada's office.

“I still predict trouble,” said Hecate, all artifice stripped from her voice.

“You always do,” came the easy reply. “But you’re only right half the time, so I have high hopes for this one.”

Hecate smiled, and closed her eyes.

 


End file.
